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‘Certainly.’ Brynn turns her megawatt-I’m-helping-the-boss’s-mother sales smile on me.
‘Whoa.’ I back up a step. ‘Mrs Moore, I am not trying things on.’
The Moore matriarch pouts at me – a feminine version of her youngest son.
‘Emily.’ I take a deep breath, doing my best to ignore the interest on Brynn’s expression. ‘Thank you for this morning’s gifts.’ I rub one hand down the sleeve of my jacket. ‘But no more, okay? We just came here so I could get my laptop.’
Emily sighs and brings one hand up to cup my cheek. It’s gentle and endearing and so maternal I find my eyes starting to sting. ‘Oh Alice, live a little.’
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the moment Brynn puts three and five together and comes up with the surreal answer to this morning’s random equation. Her smile freezes, her eyes widen as she finally sees through my voluminous blown-out hair, red lipstick and brown smudged eyeliner that Emily insisted would look ‘chic with Chanel’.
Then, like this morning’s melted butter on Mary’s triple stack of pancakes, her smile slides off her face. ‘Alice?’
I raise my hand and wiggle a few fingers. ‘Hi, Brynn.’
18
THOMAS
I’m seeing red.
Yes, I’m agitated. Not unlike a bull being teased by a matador’s cape, as Alice’s unpredictable actions continue to make me lose all common sense.
But it’s the literal red I’m seeing that blanks my mind.
‘I love it.’ My mother opera claps as Alice twists back and forth, assessing her reflection in the three full-length mirrors in front of her, sliding her hands down the silhouette of her body, the clinging red fabric so tight it doesn’t shift under the caress.
I’m stock-still behind the sales counter some fifty feet away trying to remember how to breathe.
Ten minutes after joining my first social media platform, I pinpointed the exact location of my mother and Alice’s shopping rendezvous thanks to my employees using their phones during working hours.
I’d make a mental note to send out a company-wide email about personal phone use during business hours – except my lungs finally kick into gear and now I’m panting like a dog in heat, my brain incapable of rational thought. A vexing, yet common occurrence when Alice is near.
My eyes rake over the scarlet virgin wool blend.
It isn’t just the dress. It’s the hair, the make-up, the reveal of the soft angles and curves of Alice’s lithe body. Before this moment I hadn’t realized that I cared about being the only one to see those curves.
Alice, oblivious to my presence, frowns at my mother in the mirror. ‘I don’t think this is appropriate for work.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Mother rises from her spot on the couch and circles Alice. ‘This is a classic Victoria Beckham.’ She gestures toward the painted-on fabric. ‘A simple knit long-sleeve, T-shirt dress. It even hits below the knees. I can’t imagine anyone having an issue with its appropriateness.’
The elevator across the way dings and a male customer emerges. It could be that the dressing platform is directly across from him, or the overhead lights make it impossible not to notice the eye-catching fabric clinging to Alice’s body. But the man pauses. Much like I had. Dumbfounded and enthralled.
Moving to the left, I block the man’s line of sight. ‘I have an issue with its appropriateness.’
Alice doesn’t turn, but I watch her face pale in the mirror as I stride toward her, making sure to keep myself between her and the elevator.
‘Thomas, dear.’ Mother smiles at me, not looking the least bit surprised at my interruption. ‘So glad you decided to bless us with your presence.’ She turns back to Alice standing stock-still on the platform. ‘Doesn’t Alice look lovely in this dress?’
In the mirror I watch the man from the elevator move on to whatever his destination is, while his neck keeps swiveling back to Alice as he walks. ‘No.’
Alice flinches.
The saleswoman clears her throat. ‘It also comes in black and Kelly green.’
Her attempt at helpfulness is ignored as my mother rounds on me, hands on her hips. ‘Excuse me?’
Now that my interference play has run its course, I feel the full weight of the three women’s stares. Well, two, seeing as Alice hasn’t fully looked at me.
